Here on Rhode Island Street, a luxurious trilevel offers dynamic vistas, upscale finishes and inviting outdoor spaces.“This is a rare architectural gem with sweeping city views that’s steps from the design district,” said Justin Fichelson of Sotheby’s International Realty, who is listing 548 Rhode Island St. for $4.495 million.Twelve- and 16-foot sliding glass panels connect the great room to a wraparound view deck, affording guests and residents true indoor/outdoor living.Red cedar decking complements the city’s rolling banks of white fog and azure blue sky.Wide-plank white oak flooring spans the great room as recessed lighting helps illuminate the space.Located on the second floor, the master bedroom includes a walk-in closet and a sitting area that steps out to the backyard.A floating dual vanity lingers above a herringbone-patterned marble floor in the master bathroom, while the glass shower features a rain head.The shower culminates with a frosted glass picture window that affords privacy while welcoming sunlight into the space.
NYS Entity Status
NYS Filing Date
JULY 09, 2014
NYS DOS ID#
NYS Entity Type
DOMESTIC BUSINESS CORPORATION
2014 - BLUE SKY WINDOWS AND CONSTRUCTION INC
AROUND THE WEB
- Stylish new construction on Potrero Hill
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- Washing Windows in the Sky
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- Blue Jeans Get Their Game Back
Monday Jun 12, 2017
Denim makers including Levi Strauss & Co. and Gap Inc.’s Old Navy see signs of a comeback in jeans sales, as they add more flexibility and comfort to win back shoppers from leggings.
- Hiking and biking County Mayo, Ireland’s Wild West
By Larry Habegger - Thursday Jun 22, 2017
Just 15 minutes earlier, I’d been abandoned by my wife and two teenage daughters, who refused to join me on our afternoon bike ride when the heavy sky began spitting rain. County Mayo is the kind of place that visitors imagine when they think of rural Ireland: whitewashed stone houses in impossibly green fields dotted with sheep; rolling hills that tumble into the sea or break off in sheer cliffs; narrow winding roads that lead to villages with pubs and fish markets; residents with an admirable patience who are happy to take a moment to chat; small towns with cozy cafes and restaurants serving local fare. We strolled around Westport, a thriving town with shops that ably serve both the community and visitors, and enjoyed the cafes and tearooms. [...] mostly because of dumb luck, we climbed Ireland’s holy mountain Croagh Patrick on the annual pilgrimage day when tens of thousands of people make the ascent, some of them barefoot as a way to do penance. [...] you don’t have to be a pilgrim to join the conga line slithering up the holy mountain. A statue of St. Patrick marks the starting point to the climb, but to get there we had to run the gantlet of souvenir stands selling rosaries, candles, portraits of the pope, images of Catholic saints, prayer books and various trinkets. A welcoming sign read, PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD. Dozens of people milled about apparently contemplating just that while gazing up at the rocky trail sprinkled with confetti-colored specks that turned out to be distant hikers. Strangers called out words of encouragement as stones clattered under our boots and nylon rustled against nylon. Within minutes, the view opened up over the pastures and hills; islands dotted the silver sea below. Teams of paramedics relaxed around first-aid tents, ready for the inevitable injuries. Some say the annual rite began in the Stone Age 5,000 years ago when people climbed to mark harvest season; others say it started 1,500 years ago. Up and up we went, slower than some, faster than others, and stopped after an hour for a snack on a ridge, preparing for the next hour, which would be a steep climb up unstable scree to the summit. Clouds drifted in and partially obscured the view, but we could see the trail thick with people climbing, descending, passing each other along the way. On the steep climb, the rocks shifted with every step, and it would be easy to twist an ankle, especially in the crowd. Step by step we made our way up with our many fellow climbers, and before we knew it we were at the top, where groups posed for photos and in the chapel a priest was saying Mass at a window above the throng. A cloud had settled on us, and we waited in the chill, snacking again, congratulating ourselves and others, hoping to get the full summit view. [...] 15 minutes later, the sun broke out and I was skimming along the paved path through the pastures with the wild sky above and shimmering Clew Bay below. Later, when I decided I didn’t need to wear my rain pants anymore, I stopped to take them off and shoot a few photos. The Greenway opened in April 2010 through the efforts of the Mayo County Council and the agreement of the landowners whose property the Greenway crosses. Even though the right of way followed the defunct rail line of Midlands Great Western Railway, the county needed their permission. Since it opened, statistics show a peak of about 1,000 people per day using the path, with an overall average of about 250 people per day in the June-August high season. The Greenway has produced some 130 seasonal and 60 off-season jobs, 7 bike rental companies, and several cafes and restaurants in Newport, Westport and Mulranny. The county has plans to restore a railroad station at the Mulranny Park Hotel, create an interpretive center, improve the pathway surface in some places, and restore old railway cottages as shelters with toilets and refreshments. Just before Newport, it skirted then crossed an inlet from the sea over the arched stone Burrishoole Bridge, and I coasted downhill in glorious sunshine into town for coffee at the Blue Bicycle Tea Rooms. If the rain came, I’d be just another fool let loose on the wind, but I’d dry out in no time by the turf fire in our cottage, a cup of tea in hand and the green pastures and glistening sea outside the window. In the town center, Willow Cafe Tea Room serves simple meals of soups, salads, sandwiches, quiches and lots of baked goods along with excellent coffee and teas. Kelly’s Kitchen serves full Irish breakfast and lunches with locally sourced meats from the adjacent butcher (all in the family), who’s been serving the community for decades.
- Oman holiday: Road trip reveals culture shaped by the land
By Jenna Scatena - Friday Jun 16, 2017
The dune I’m sitting on is the color and consistency of sifted wheat flour. In its grooves are impressions from everyone around me: the long bare feet of my bedouin guide; the deep crescent hoofs of his camels; tick marks from small desert birds, beetles and iridescent scorpions. Nothing comes through this desert without leaving its mark,” my guide says, refilling my cup with saffron tea, “Not even something as weightless as the wind. The powdery sand rests in 300-foot-tall mounds, dunes so high they lend a new perspective of the Middle East, and as the orange sun that’s been dominating the sky all day drops behind the farthest drift on the horizon, I reconsider what I know — or thought I knew — about this part of the world. “This dune we sit on now will shift to a different position by sunrise tomorrow,” he explains, and I slug back the last sip of saffron tea, now bitter and cold from the wind. Back at the Nomadic Desert Camp, a bedouin camp travelers can stay at, carpets are rolled across the sand outside of my palm frond hut for a makeshift terrace under a star-studded sky. From the Sharqiya Sands to Nizwa, the band of freshly paved highway is lined with rock quarries, “For Sale” signs to empty desert lots, dust devils and billboards of popular leader Sultan Qaboos bin Said. Because the country’s tourism industry is young and small — the doors only opened to outside tourists in the early 1990s — Oman is still a country primarily designed for locals, not foreigners. The map on my iPhone only displays a large swath of beige as we weave our rental car around Kias and pickup trucks full of camels. Soon we pull in to Nizwa, an ancient city wedged at the foot of the Al Hajar Mountains, a sawtooth range that separates the country’s northern coast from its desert interior. To the southeast is the lonely edge of the Ar Rub al Khali, or the Empty Quarter, the largest uninterrupted expanse of sand on the planet. Tables are splayed with hammered silver jewelry, marble decorative objects and rose-hued clay water jugs. Farmers sell pyramids of sticky dates and amber cubes of locally harvested frankincense. Other than some modern trinkets and conveniences, the scene probably is not much changed in 150 years, back to when the Omani empire included portions of Abu Dhabi, Iran, Zanzibar and the East African coastline down to Mozambique. Nizwa has its share of historical sites — the imposing Nizwa Fort is among the country’s most popular monuments — but portions of the town itself are a living museum of a culture shaped by trade, by the desert and by the people who came through one to do the other. Jebel Akhdar is a far cry from both Oman’s sea and deserts in many ways, and its stony mountainsides, wide plateaus and vertiginous valleys are oases of Eden-esque farms I was not expecting in Oman. Behind iron gates front doors are dizzy with Islamic geometric patterns, and reflective gold windows allow residents to see out and prevent outsiders from seeing in. Connecting it all is a web of Omani aflaj irrigation systems, tranquil narrow channels engineered to water crops that can be traced back 5,000 years. After overcoming a violent history of tribal warfare, Oman has quietly been a rising force for peace in the region, promoting religious tolerance and serving as neutral ground for diplomatic talks. Shaggy free-range goats bleat as they clomp over piles of rocks to tear small thick leaves from the branches of an acacia tree. An hour south of Muscat, swallows swoop over placid estuaries, cliffs plummet into a swirling ocean, old shipwrecks crest the shallow waters, and a man sells dates and watermelon slices from the back of a Westfalia alongside the serpentine road. Sand-castle-like fortresses freckle the bluffs, and parts of the drive are queued with evidence of Oman’s changing landscape: lines of construction workers in baby-blue jumpsuits picking away at the mountains, and a gridlock of tankers, loaders and excavators clearing the way for more transportation infrastructure, part of an ambitious plan the government is striving to roll out over the next few years. The beach is empty except for a few fishing boats with peeling paint, and the silhouettes of a group of women strolling the shoreline. Each room is equipped with luxury bed linens and a balcony. The resort has 40 well-appointed rooms with views of the sea, an infinity pool, a spa and three gourmet restaurants. A classic Omani restaurant that offers an elevated interpretation of traditional Arabic specialities. Located on Atheiba Beach, the Beach serves fresh, Mediterranean-inspired seafood in an elegant setting with a view of the gulf. A mix of Moroccan, Arabic and Omani dishes served up in an opulent interior of curtain draped doorways, a shimmering ceiling, and Moroccan lamps.